Like cat and mouse
by EdelweissandLemons
Summary: On the road to another yet EU meeting Egland accidentaly bumps into Ireland. What happens next? When did this game of cat and mouse they play will be over? England/Ireland hetero smut. WARNING: Very Explicit for Mature audiency ONLY. It features a very very possesive England. Mentions of USUK and FrUK.
1. Prologue

**English is not my first language so any bad phrasing or syntax or grammar can be justified (I hope) **

**I just always wanted to write a story of England fucking Ireland's brains out... And Ireland is a female here because if you think about it if the coutry Ireland ever personified into a human person it WOULD CERTAINLY BE A WOMAN. -end of story-**

**And we all know England needs a woman in his life. I mean ok he is a cute uke alright but I want to explore more his aggressive side if you know what I mean *winkwink***

**This story is filled with my headcannons if you don't understand something ask on the reviews.**

**Also I am curious if you readers find the USUK reference in this chapter. Have fun reading :)**

**...**

England looked down at his drink having finally concluded that all this was a big waste of time. Even if Amsterdam was a remarkably nice city, even if Netherlands tried to make all of his guests feel welcome by noting from the best museums and places to visit to the fanciest pubs and even suggesting the best whorehouses, something was amiss. The pub England was now in was small but very neat, however he couldn't quite come to fully enjoy it. With a load of work back at his home, he couldn't waste time on tomorrow's EU meeting. Europeans and their stupid policies never interested him at the first place. He played his part in this big game but European countries most of the time were giving him a headache; it was times like this that he let his thoughts wander towards what was beyond the ocean…

England shook his head; thinking about that would do him no good now. He let his gaze wander lazily around the small low lit room until something that caught his eye made him froze. A couple of seats across him sat a woman that had ridiculously bright unruly ginger hair which concealed most of her face; England couldn't quite see it but knew she was very beautiful either way. This slender figure with the matching red hair could only belong to one person; Ireland. A strange longing took him over; same every time he saw her, however now he was equally curious whether she had noticed him. Ireland as she was sipping her drink slowly seemed as oblivious of him as he was for her moments ago.

A sudden idea was formed in his mind that brought up a smirk on his lips. One try wouldn't hurt would it? The worst thing it could happen was to be slapped across the face, but Ireland seemed very bored and tired to pick up a fight right now and that only did things better for him. Quickly England called the bartender and ordered a drink for her. With a secret satisfaction saw Ireland tossing her head in surprise when the bartender put the drink before her and raising a hand to deny it, but when the bartender pointed towards England, she turned her head and emerald eyes locked with his honey green ones.

For a moment they stood motionless. England knew perfectly well that Ireland wasn't drunk; it would take much more than a couple of drinks for her to feel even remotely tipsy. She looked exhausted though; no surprise either because except of the EU meetings, she had also had to attend the Euro Summit meetings that were much more frequent and tiring. And he knew her well enough to be aware that she would likely feel insulted to be offered a drink by England and that she would probably just walk away without touching it, but England was searching for the 1% of chance that she would not do that. After all they haven't seen each other, not even from afar, for over a half of year and now meeting by chance in the home place of another country was a very rare occurrence indeed. Maybe as rare as the reaction that England was hoping from Ireland.

England, never ceasing smiling at her, raised his glass and took a sip. With an increasing excitement saw Ireland doing the same. When she put down her glass, England saw her thumb moving to brush away the bright lipstick mark her lips had left on it. Ireland noticed him looking, their eyes were locked together once more and she bit her lipstick coloured lip seductively.

England's smile was now so broad it went beyond his canine teeth.

'_She's mine now_', he thought triumphantly

**...**

**Author's Note: A historical paradox that is created there; this story is situated roughly on 2012 but there were no EU meetings situated in Amsterdam this year; they all took place in Brussels. I moved the location to Amsterdam to make it more interesting with Netherlands being hospitable an all ;)**

**Be gentle in the reviews it's my first story :)**


	2. Sexy times

**And the sexy part is here...Enjoy (lots of headcannons here as well). WARNING: Very possesive England ahead.**

**...**

A couple of hours later England and Ireland walked through the doors of the hotel Ireland was staying in. Right after she got the key to her room, they both made a race towards the elevator. Ireland half-giggling, half-shuddering was trying to press the button for the right floor while England's hands and mouth was already all over her, touching, kissing. It was a weird thing Ireland did to him; every time he held her in his arms he didn't want to let go.

As the elevator's doors started to open on the right floor Ireland let out a girlish squeak and gave him a powerful push that effectively severed him from her. She run towards her room door not casting a single look behind but England caught up to her very quickly. She had managed barely to unlock the door when he again circled his hands around her waist and attacked her neck with his mouth. Ireland giggled and tried to shake him off but in the end with a soft sigh pushed the handle down, opening the door.

They both stepped inside clumsily but Ireland took the upper hand again and pushed him away which this time made him lose his balance and collapse on top of the bed. He watched Ireland in wonder as she started to undress, taking out her clothes one by one gradually revealing perfect alabaster skin beneath.

'I will mark you', she announced nonchalantly, 'So that every whore in Amsterdam you may visit will know that you were mine first'

Strangely these words went straight to his groin. He felt his pants getting really tight and the next thing he knew was that Ireland was looking directly there. He was half expecting a snarky comment but unexpectedly she blushed and by removing her panties last, she lied beside him on the bed. She was almost curling to ball, something which England found adorable. She regarded him with those vivid emerald eyes –Good Lord those eyes!- so beautiful even if it they looked as staring directly to your soul.

'I know how you like to enjoy yourself', she said sheepishly, 'But be gentle okay?'

'How about not coming before you do? It seems fair', with the feeling of getting hotter and hotter every moment it seemed wise to him to get straight to the point.

Ireland blushed harder at that.

' I..well… okay' she murmured.

England removed his tie trying to fight back a devilish smirk.

'So Ireland, have you been causing trouble again?' he asked lowering his voice.

The woman's eyes widened but before she was able to react, England was onto her –literally-; he grabbed her wrists and tied them above her head with his tie. Ireland tried to shake herself free but England pinned her down using just enough force to keep her still.

He looked at her; she was so beautiful now, her green eyes holding the same anger and fury he was so accustomed to, her lips where the natural red of them was mixed with the rosy lipstick were parted, her freckled cheeks flushed.

He bent down to kiss her; it was the first time he did so that night. He felt her bit his lip but that only heightened his desire. He deepened the kiss, still holding her down he let his tongue explore her mouth. Ireland didn't fight for dominance over the kiss but rather let England to take the lead and he caressed her tongue with his. That drew a moan out of her making him smile.

They kissed again and again until they both were out of breath. England traced her jaw line with his lips and then proceeded to kiss her neck. He started sucking and biting the soft flesh making sure that there would be marks there for everyone to see the next morning. That, until he finally found the sensitive spot under her ear and felt her moan in response; her body arching against his.

'Getting greedy, are we Ireland?', he huskily whispered to her ear before moving to lick and nip her earlobe.

He felt her shivering beneath him. Good.

He continued to kiss his way past her collarbone. His mouth found one of her breasts and started placing kisses and licks on it but he at the same time made sure that his hand was taking care of her other breast. His lips curled into a smile when he felt her arching against him and louder moans escaping her mouth. He captured her soft pink nipple with his mouth and started sucking. At this Ireland left a high-pitched moan that sounded a lot like a cat's mewl.

A feeling of euphoria suddenly engulfed him. Same every time he had his mouth on her breasts; warmth and happiness. He couldn't quite explain why he felt this way but he could bet that it was similar to what infants felt when they breastfeed.

'England….please...'

The high-pitched cry of Ireland snapped him out of his reverie. He raised his head enough so that he was staring directly into her emerald orbs.

'We haven't yet started and yet you are already begging Ireland?', he whispered somewhat sinisterly.

Ireland her lips still scarlet red and parted, widened her eyes in horror as she realized that she had just _begged_ England. On his part, England knew very well that for her this was the ultimate disgrace. And sure enough in a moment her eyes welled up with tears of humiliation.

England, not able to bear seeing her like that, lifted himself to her face and tenderly kissed away her tears. He kissed her lips next and brought one hand to caress her cheek gently.

'Beloved, I promise you I plan to make you feel very good. And believe me when I say there will be plenty reasons for you to beg. Just send your pride to hell for that one time', he breathed softly against her mouth.

Ireland noticed that his voice was gentle and for the first time this night devoid of any malice or arrogance. She nodded and lifted slightly to capture his lips one more time. England leaned to the kiss and for this only time he let Ireland push her tongue into his mouth so that he could wrap it lovingly with his own.

He then resumed from where he had left. He kissed her other breast but only briefly; he then continued his descent on her body, savouring the soft, warm flesh. Lower and lower he wandered, only stopping for a moment to tease her bellybutton with his tongue. As he neared the object of his desire, his hands touched her thighs gently attempting to open them.

Ireland gave a cry of protest and once more she was on the offence; her legs kicked out, while staying glued together, denying letting him continue. England saw her gritting her teeth furiously her eyes two emeralds alight with anger. A vulgar swear and something else spoken in her native tongue escaped her lips and she kicked out to him again.

This was always the case with Ireland. She had never been one to surrender easily to one's will nor would ever be. England thought of her as a castle; in order to conquer it one has to cross its trench and brave the walls. Now avoiding one more kick aiming for his crotch (which would have hurt like hell if it had landed properly) he decided to put things right.

He grasped her thighs again but this time he was not gentle at all. His nails dug deep into the soft alabaster flesh leaving small pink half-moon marks. He held her legs down in order to immobilize them then forcibly spread them. He heard a pathetic whimper coming from the woman beneath him acknowledging his victory.

'You've been a good girl Ireland', he whispered huskily, 'This is your reward'.

And while he was still holding her legs firm he started licking and kissing the marks he had left on her thigh, gradually nearing to the soft core between her legs. When his lips touched this very place he felt her shudder and he heard her mewling. Without losing time he thrust his tongue inside.

Ireland moaned loudly at that but England couldn't help a groan of satisfaction that rose to his throat as he found her core already dripping wet. He alternated between hard licks and thrusting his tongue inside, enjoying the sounds he coaxed out of her as he did so.

Ireland's reaction only urged him to lick and suck more vigorously. She mewled pathetically and writhed from head to toe. England let her legs then and they instantly wrapped around him as if they of their own will. Ireland was very well restrained but she still somehow managed to thrust into England's wanting mouth. Smirking inwardly he brought two fingers and without any warning he thrust them inside her. He felt her legs tighten on both sides of his head and heard a loud 'oh!' coming from her. As he started thrusting his fingers with an increasing pace, he found her clitoris and sucked hard; that was what undid her as she came hard into his mouth her whole body trembling with the force of her release. She lay passive and languid as England lapped leisurely at her the sweet nectar seeping from her core, still stroking her gently. When he finally stood up his smirk was a mix of satisfaction and superiority.

Ireland met his eyes with hers; emerald meeting golden-green. She was still trying to catch her breath as she whispered softly:

'Kiss me'

'With pleasure', he complied at once, his lips crushing onto hers. Ireland mewled again when she realized that she tasted herself on his lips. Tongues battled for dominance and this time it was England who bit her lip. They kissed for what seemed ages until England finally backed away but not before he delivered a last lick on her lips.

'And that concludes my end of the bargain. It's my turn now don't you think…my dear?'

Ireland's eyes widened again as she was been abruptly brought from her blissful haze into reality. She gave him a look which he couldn't quite indentify (even to this day he failed at times to decipher Ireland's expression and stare). It was something between wariness mixed with pleading and…innocence (?). An odd mix indeed.

England had to tear his eyes from hers in order to continue. He took his time to remove his own clothing one by one, not messily instead he folded carefully each piece of clothing before setting it at the corner of the bed. He felt a great relief when he started removing his pants; all this time taking care of Ireland's pleasure he had completely neglected his own. With a silent gasp he pulled his underwear releasing his erect member.

The corner of his eye caught movement. Ireland even with her hands tied and her legs spread on either side of England she had somehow managed to lift herself a little and was now straining to take a look at England's erection. She was even biting her blood red lip and took England all his self-restraint not to grab her hips and fuck her right then and there. Hard.

' Like what you see?', he directed the question to her as he lifted his hand to give his cock one, two long strokes.

With great satisfaction saw Ireland blush not only at her cheeks but also at her neck and chest. She tore her eyes from his lower region to meet his stare, her teeth still biting her lip. As she parted her lips a whisper escaped them:

'Do it.', she breathed.

For the first time this night England scowled at her:

'Oh no no no no no no Ireland. You are in no place to command _me_ but if you are so keen in telling me what to do, then you will do it properly', he brought his face close to hers and dropped his voice, 'You will tell me exactly what you want. And you will beg for it'

Ireland took in a sharp inhale as if gravely offended but England couldn't care less. His hard member in hand, England stroked with it the inside of her thigh. In return she let a high pitched moan.

'Let me hear it Ireland', he demanded

'I want…I want', it was as if her words were coming forced out of her mouth 'I want your cock inside me', she managed to say in the end.

The corner of his lips stretched upward but he still didn't move.

'What else Ireland? You must say it properly. Beg for it, like the good servant that you are'

At this flares of anger more intense than ever appeared in the vivid green of her eyes. Engoland was now inwardly congratulating his decision to tie her hands in the very beginning because if not she would certainly have slapped him by now.

It didn't matter though as he teasingly started to rub the head of his cock between her folds but still avoiding her entrance.

Ireland arched crying both in fury and desire. She tried to push herself on his member but he held her thighs firm denying her any movement. After a brief struggle she laid defeated and desperate. But England was not sure that he had won yet.

Until, he saw her eyes.

Wide and vulnerable, they were filled with tears. The way she looked at him reminded him that this very night was nothing less and nothing more from the infernal game of cat and mouse they played for more than 700 years.

' England…fuck me…please…I beg you', she sounded defeated and tearful.

It was enough. Her pleading tone was capable of making him come right then and there. He entered her with one clean thrust, savouring the wanton sound she made.

It all went downhill from there. As he continued his thrusts while steadily increasing his pace he felt once again her legs locking themselves behind him. He saw Ireland for the first time this night struggling to untie her hands, probably because she wanted to embrace him (although there was still a faint possibility that she would want to punch him).Nevertheless he bend down to kiss her and then move his lips to her ear where he whispered all those sweet things he would never had the courage to tell her while facing her in the broad daylight.

As he felt his orgasm nearing he grabbed her hips again, raising them enough so that her lower back was lifted from the bed. That allowed him to change his angle and thrust more deeply into her, driving both of them crazy with lust.

'Oh God…oh God', he heard her moan in desperation.

'You can…just call me England…my dear', it was hard for him to talk in a situation like this but it was truly worth to see the expression on her face when he posed as the higher being. Priceless.

In another situation Ireland would surely throw something at him for his insolence but that Ireland beneath him was nothing like the headstrong, unruly Ireland, but rather a wanton moaning mess that was coaxing him to go faster and faster.

England, who wanted to come from the first time that he had entered her, was just waiting for the right moment. And as he felt her body tightening around his, her inner walls convulsing uncontrollably around his hard member he knew that the right moment had come. As Ireland was coming he rode her orgasm and at the same time he released deep inside her. His vision went white for a moment; for about two whole months he had had no sexual intercourse or stimulation of any kind so now his orgasm seemed to last forever as he released in waves synchronous with his thrusts. On the last thrust he felt Ireland's body tighten again and the woman let a high pitched cry so loud that it would surely have been heard by the adjacent rooms.

**...**

**This is my first smut. I hope you liked. =3**


	3. Pillow Talk

He felt as light as a feather as he collapsed next to her on the bed. For the next 5 mins or so nothing could be heard but their heavy breathing. Finally Ireland, collecting herself said firmly:

'Good, you had your fun, now get this thing off my wrists'

Her voice snapped England out of his pleasant reverie. 'Damn this woman' he thought. 'How can she be Heaven at times and Hell at others, I will never understand'

But the only thing he said aloud was a stiff 'Righto' before he untied his tie, freeing her hands at last.

He saw her rubbing her numb wrists as he covered himself with the sheets. And then without warning Ireland jumped him. England half in shock was about to throw her off him and the bed but held back when he felt her soft lips on his neck.

'You don't have to thank me…aaaack!', he was cut short by teeth that replaced the lips. He felt Ireland biting him, gently at first, then lick him then bite him harder. She took her sweet time biting and sucking at the same spot, at last purring contently she returned to her place beside him on the bed. While she was drawing the sheets up to her neck, England touched the numb spot lightly. It stung. This could mean one thing.

'Bloody Hell, Ireland, this will leave a mark!'

'Exactly', she replied smugly.

'Are you nuts? How am I supposed to go with _that_ at tomorrow's meeting?'

'Not my problem', there was now something truly obnoxious in her voice beyond her smug tone.

'You….', England started but Ireland rolled over and stood over him.

'Remember…I told you in the beginning of our…game, that I will mark you in order to show to all the whores you may visit in the next few days that I had you first'

England narrowed his eyes in disbelief.

'Really, Ireland? Is that what you think of me? That I would resort into…paid company?'

'You are a degenerate and a pervert, England. Nothing would surprise me'

Instead of a response, England grabbed Ireland's shoulder and rolled them over so he was now on top of her.

'I haven't slept with a single female since our last time together', he said firmly between gritted teeth while looking her straight in the eye.

Ireland could see that he wasn't lying.

'But…but that was two years ago? Surely you…?', she was astounded by this revelation.

'No. Not with a woman at least… But what about you?' , he narrowed his eyes.

'What do you mean?', she replied stiffly.

'You are young, you are single and lots of men, even a dozen other countries desire you… Don't tell me you have stayed 'chaste' all this time?'

'I have indeed', she replied sounding offended, 'My sex drive isn't like yours. I can survive well enough without having some jerk screwing me over'

Inwardly England signed with relief. Even though Ireland was independent for almost 100 years now, he still considered her _his thing_. And he hated it when people touched his things. Outwardly he said smugly.

'No wonder that you came two times. Or it was three?'

With great satisfaction he watched her blush and turn her head to the side avoiding his gaze.

'It was three actually…', she said sheepishly.

'Aha', England exclaimed triumphantly, 'You came three times when I only came once! Not to mention that I let you come first, as a true gentleman like myself would do'.

'Oh get over yourself, England', she said gruffly as she pushed him off her, 'It is very ironic that you are the country that introduced the way of the 'gentleman' while you act like a scoundrel most of the time'

'Why thank you', he said sarcastically without losing his good mood, 'The fact still remains that you came two times more that I did…I could forgive one…but…now you owe me'

Ireland studied his triumphant expression for a moment before saying decisively and firmly:

'If you are trying to get me to do a morning blowjob, you are sorely mistaken'

'What?', he exclaimed incredulously, astonished at how she saw right through him, 'Why not?'

'Well first, when you came it lasted for so long it can count for two times, second, I never asked you to let me come first, so instead of delaying it and acting like a 'sir' and shit you could have gone ahead and have your release whenever you pleased'

'But you said…'

'I said be gentle…and judging from the way you opened my legs, you weren't. So it should be you owing me!', and with that last remark Ireland turned grudgingly on her side away from England.

England momentarily had the urge to try one more time to talk her into giving him that blowjob, but because he knew her too well, he knew that would be no good. Stubbornness run in the family and if Ireland had made up her mind about something there was no way changing it. But as he was about to turn around as well, he heard Ireland mumbling something softly that he didn't catch. One could never be sure about Ireland, if she started talking in her own language there was no way England could understand her. Nevertheless he was about to give it a try.

'Did you just say something, dear?'

There was a short pause. Then:

'You said that all of this time you haven't been with other woman _at least_. So you have been with someone'

England for a moment was completely startled then inwardly cursed himself for letting that slip. Curse his honesty; he should better be lying as he did always. But as he was preparing his lie, he suddenly was acutely aware that Ireland had turned his way and was now staring him with those fathomless emerald eyes. How could he lie now that he felt her staring into his very soul? He couldn't.

'I have been with someone, yes', he replied before he was aware that he did.

'A man?',

'Yes'

'_Him_?'

'Yes', there was no need for names. Both of them knew exactly whom they were talking about.

'Oh…', she exclaimed quietly and England could swear he could hear hurt in her voice.

'But I haven't seen him for two months now…', he started but then stopped abruptly on his own accord. Curse his honesty.

Ireland eyes were unusually bright indicating that she was about to tear up but she held back.

'I…Is he gentle with you at least?', her voice was trembling slightly as she uttered the question.

England was exasperated.

'Ireland please…Don't ask me that. You know I cannot answer it'

Ireland looked almost tearful as he turned away from him. England mentally counted to 10 then carefully approached her. As she showed no sign of shoving him away, he gently curled a hand around her and guided her so that her backside came to rest on the hollow of his body. He felt her stiffen for a split second but then she relaxed and let him guide her to his lap. England found the opportunity to bury his head in her long, curly ginger hair, to smell her earthly scent. She smelled like daisies, roses and freshly cut grass. A unique scent indeed, of heaven and of earth.

'Spoon', she commented on their position, a giggle escaping her lips.

'Yeah', he murmured as their bodies curled together, 'This was your favourite sleeping position as I recall'.

'It still is and it will always be. This is how Scotland and I were sleeping when we were kids'

His heart skipped a beat as he felt a pang of jealously. He knew it was ridiculous to feel this way; Ireland and Scotland's relationship was not a romantic one, but regardless he always couldn't help feeling jealously every single time Ireland uttered a name of someone other than himself.

"The only name I want to hear you say is my name and my name only", he had told her once. And that hadn't changed.

But Ireland seemed to not sense his mood as she went on:

'Really how's my deartháir? How's Scotland doing?'

'He is more than fine', England replied grudgingly, 'Just this morning before I left he kept saying how he will soon be able to attend those meeting as a country himself and made his usual 10 minute rant about freedom and independence'

Ireland's bare white shoulders shook slightly as she chuckled:

'Yes that sounds like him alright. I support him on his decision. I will be glad to have him coming in the EU meetings as well'

England not being able to hear Ireland talk about somebody else than him found the crook of her neck and started placing soft kisses on it. He felt Ireland tense and almost withdraw in surprise but the only sound that came out of her lips was a soft sign. She let England do as he pleased for a while then she said in low voice;

'Go to sleep England. Tomorrow is going to be a long day for both of us'

'I am not sure I want this night to end', England mumbled sleepily as exhaustion was starting to take over. Sleep was already engulfing him like a heavy but cosy blanket.

'I do not want to wake up pretending nothing happened. I love you Ireland', but at this point he was not entirely sure if he was saying these words or he was dreaming of saying them.

**...**

**deartháir: it means 'brother' in Irish  
Ok I think I have some explaining to do. Yes indeed England and Ireland are technically brother and sister but I don't classify it as incest because they are countries and their relations are far more complicated than mere humans. And if we really want to be technical in my headcannon England is only Ireland's half-brother.  
I hope all noticed the USUK here... yes America is England's mysterious lover. I know my headcannon is kinda confusing but if you have a question please ask it in the reviews and I will make a chapter with the answers.**


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